I try to banish them, these thoughts, but they keep bubbling up to the surface. I guess they need my attention and they're telling me it's time to deal. I watched Georgia Rule yesterday and while being a good movie, it hit some triggers. I won't spoil the movie other than to say that part of the story deals with a girl whose step-father molested her.
I was reminded of when we found that a close family friend had molested our oldest two. I spent time agonizing over what my gut was telling me (the kids denied it for a long time) and not wanting to believe someone I had known for so many years was capable of something so vile. My gut finally won and he was evicted from our lives.
A few months down the road we heard he'd been jailed for child molestation and again I asked the kids. This time they told me the truth. They'd been afraid while he was free. Part of me died that day and has never recovered. I know I'm not superwoman and I know I can't control everything. I even know that I can't keep my children safe from everything. But that was one thing I'd always wanted to protect them from. I never wanted them to go through what I'd been through. I spent a lot of energy teaching them ownership of their bodies and to tell no matter what. I underestimated the power of intimidation. I trusted the wrong person and I learned that no matter how well you may think you know a person, no matter how long you know them, you never truly know them.
Part of me will always feel guilty for letting that person into our home and into our lives. It isn't logical to continue to feel badly about it, it doesn't serve a purpose, but I can't seem to completely rid myself of that guilt. I feel partly responsible because I spent too much time questioning my gut, my instincts. Yes I'm human and it's not something you want to believe of your closest friends. It's a serious allegation to make. What ifs abound in this type of situation.
I've tried to find forgiveness for myself and for him. Logically I understand that he's mentally ill, not right in the head, whatever. But emotionally I don't understand. He knew about my background, he knew what it did to me, and he knew how I'd react if someone ever did that to my children. We'd talked. Sometimes I wonder if he was hoping to be caught by us because of this. I wonder if he was hoping we'd stop him for good.
During moments when my mind isn't occupied my thoughts circle back to that time. They go round and round. I forcibly move my thinking to something more productive but that isn't really dealing with the problem. I need to go to the source. I need to ask why. I didn't really ask many questions when I confronted him after the trial was over and he was convicted. I was lucky to be able to function then. I just wanted to hurt him as much as he'd hurt us. I told him he was dead to us, I wish it were that easy for me.
The kids seem to have managed to take back what he took from them. They're functioning and mostly happy. They're creating lives for themselves with fewer problems than I had. Or at least that's what I see and hear from them. It's probably time to check in.. though I'm loathe to bring the topic up at all. I've destroyed all pictures of him and I refuse to speak his name nor do I like to hear his name brought up in conversation. I truly want to erase him from our lives, I know it won't undo what's done but none of us need reminders of him.
Surprisingly I'm not as down as I thought I'd be. I'm just a little off today as I move through some of the feelings I've shied away from.
There's no drama, no feelings of 'woe is me', no self-pity. Just the reality of the situation and finally dealing with some of what I wasn't able to deal with then, or since.
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